Life or Death
by katmiester
Summary: They say your life flashes before your eyes in those final moments before your death. And for some, that may be true. But I saw one person. PostSYGA. Naley.
1. Crash Course

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**LIFE OR DEATH**

Chapter One: Crash Course

* * *

Some people say your life flashes before your eyes in those final moments before death. And maybe it does for some.

But all I saw, as I sped towards the wall that would end it all for me, was Haley.

* * *

I swear I wasn't looking to kill myself. I don't think I was suicidal. And I know I wasn't intending to end it all when I got behind the wheel of that car. In fact, I didn't even plan to crash when I passed the pit and started that high-speed lap. I just…I just wanted to stop the pain. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw Haley. I dreamt about her. Then I would wake up in the morning, expecting to see her by my side, and I would be alone. And I would remember that I just wasn't enough for her.

And then I saw that wall, and I hit the accelerator.

It wasn't the first time I'd tried to stop the pain.

I'd tried alcohol, but that didn't work. Turns out I'm a bitter, destructive drunk. Inebriated and heartbroken, my drunken self not only thought of Haley constantly, but also lacked the faculties to block her out of my mind. And any other sense of self-control. I destroyed almost every remnant of Haley's existence in the apartment – the wedding wall, the keyboard, even her toothbrush.

It wasn't fair. How could I need her so bad, without her ever needing me back? How could I not have felt that, felt the lack of reciprocation? I thought I knew her. If I did, how could I not notice that she didn't need me?

Pain. Agony. Haley. I just wanted it to stop. Nothing was the same anymore. Runs always used to clear my head. If I couldn't get something off of my mind, I would lace up my cross-trainers and just run:

Run until I had outdistanced my problems.

Run until my thoughts became incoherent blips and jumbles.

Run until my body disconnected itself from my mind.

Run until exhaustion took over, dulling my consciousness.

Run until the physical pain blocked out my mental agony.

That didn't work anymore. When I ran, the soles of my shoes beat her name out on the pavement with every step. _Ha-ley. Ha-ley. Ha-ley._ The rhythm of my breathing panted her name. _"Ha-ley. Ha-ley. Ha-ley."_ I couldn't run away from her any more than I could run away from myself.

The physical pain of the run was some respite, but even that was incomplete. Even that failed to block out the ache I felt at my very core. The one that never stopped, no matter what I tried. The one that was so painful that I couldn't tell if it was physical or mental. Until Haley left, I never believed it was possible to die of a broken heart.

And maybe it isn't.

Maybe it isn't the broken heart that kills you – maybe it's the numbness that comes after it. 'Cuz sometimes, I couldn't feel anything. Not hunger, not physical pain. Just that same ache. And sometimes I couldn't even feel that. I was so used to that pain, sometimes I didn't feel it at all. I felt nothing. And that's worse. Because even when I didn't feel it, I never forgot that it was there, that it always would be.

She was everywhere. She was in my every movement, the very air I breathed, that kept me alive. How can the one person that sustains you be the one person that is killing you, too? 'Cuz she was killing me. Slowly, painfully.

There were times when I hated her – actually, could never really hate Haley, so I just hated myself instead. Times I wanted to hate her, wanted to make her hurt like she made me hurt. Then there would be the times when I needed her so bad, ached for her so much, I would literally be sick, literally throw up. Times when I stared up at the ceiling for hours and hours on end, not sleeping, not eating, unable to remember a single thought in my head other than her name. _Haley._

So when I accelerated that car, when I kept it straight as the wall curved in on me, I wasn't thinking about death: I didn't want to die.

I wasn't thinking about life, either: I hadn't been alive for a while. Not really, anyway.

All I was thinking about was that ache that would never, ever go away. The ache that would be there for always. Always and Forever. 'Cuz if Haley wasn't gonna be there, that ache sure as hell would be.

I just wanted – for one second, just one second – to _not_ feel the pain she had inflicted on me. To not see her face every time I blinked. I wasn't thinking about death. I wasn't thinking about life. I just wanted to escape that pain, escape her, at least for a little while.

There was a moment that I knew it was too late. A moment in which I consciously realized that, even if I wanted to turn and avoid the wall, it was too late, and I would be leaving the car in a body bag, maybe on a stretcher, if I was lucky. I was so calm, that thought was so rational, but it was far, far, far back in the recesses of my mind. I don't even remember thinking it, I just know that I did, somewhere in the back of my mind. And the reason all rationality was in the back of my mind was because Haley was in the front of it. She always was. Everything else was just background noise.

So in those moments that I _knew_ it was too late, she was all I saw. I didn't see the day I made varsity, one of the proudest moments of my life. I didn't see myself being lifted onto the shoulders of my teammates after a winning game. Instead, I saw Haley. I saw her in her wedding dress, on the beach. I saw her in my arms. I saw her the day I asked her to marry me, the day I told her I would love her forever, the day she promised I would never lose her. Then I saw her with Chris. I saw her leave Tree Hill, leave me, leave us. And then everything went black.

When I came to, my first thought was of Haley. The first thing I felt was that ache returning. Not my numerous broken ribs, the searing pain I later felt when I struggled to breathe with broken ribs and a punctured lung, not my knee, or my neck or my back. It was that ache.

And it was then that I knew I would never escape her. I had tried to escape the pain of life, and still, there was Haley. I had narrowly escaped death, and Haley was still there. I could try to escape life, I could escape death, but there would never, ever be any escaping Haley. But then again, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to.

* * *

That was almost a year ago.

I'd like to think I've changed since then. Matured, maybe. I know I have learned a lot about life and love since then, but now I'm not so sure.

Because right now, I feel an even deeper pain, a deeper ache, then I felt back then.

Because right now, Haley is being prepped for emergency surgery, and the doctors don't know if she and the baby are going to make it.


	2. Breathe

**A/N: **So even though I got several hundred hits on this fic, I only got a handful of reviews (and I am very, very grateful to those of you who did review, so thank you for that). But I know how it is, seeing as I've read WAY more fics than I've written, and as long as I keep getting some reviews and hits, I'm going to keep going with this. So thank you to those of you who have reviewed. If you haven't, please consider it. And Happy New Year!

**Chapter Two: Breathe**

The doctor left directly after imparting his information. He talked a lot, but I'm not sure if he really said anything. He talked about Haley's injuries, told me they were in the middle of operating but that there was a lot of internal bleeding. Somehow I summoned the courage to ask about our son. The doctor looked grim and told me the surgical team was going to "do everything they can." He didn't say much about their chances at recovering.

I felt my legs give out, my body go limp. I reached out to the wall for support, that's all that kept me standing. Somehow I staggered to the bathroom, where I gripped the sink to stay on my feet and splashed my face with water. Haley. Oh, God, Haley.

In an instant, the accident came flooding back to me, filling my vision. The empty streets, walking with Haley then, out of no where, the blinding high-beams of the speeding car, Haley's shout, the collision, her petite form struck by the oncoming vehicle –

The thought alone induced a sudden wave of nausea, and I found myself on my knees, heaving the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Once, twice, again. Until it was gone. Until I was empty.

With labored breaths, I wiped the vomit from my face. I climbed to my feet. With my hands braced against the sides of the stall for support, I staggered to the sink. I rinsed out my mouth, wiped my face. When I finally raised my face to the mirror, I saw in my eyes a combination of emotions I know I had seen once before. On Haley.

* * *

_Haley looked at me with an expression I had never seen before; it was so full of fear, pain, desperation, love. It hurt to look at her. _

"_Nathan, please…" she begged, gripping my arm desperately. We both knew I was going to jump off of a bridge, into the river, after the sinking limousine. _

_I looked her in the eye, my heart wrenching. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, that I would come back, because I would never, ever leave her. "I love you." Hopefully that was enough. _

_I had told her I loved her. Of course I did._ But why did I say it just then? It wasn't good-bye, was it? _No, I tried to convince myself, it wasn't good-bye. Couldn't be._ Then what was it? _It was…It was a promise._ A promise of what? _I didn't say that to say good-bye did I?_ I would be coming back up, right? _Yes, I was. I was going to resurface._ Was I going to die?_ No, I wasn't going to die._

_Was I?_

_I pulled away from her, backing across the bridge before propelling myself off the edge. My body switched to autopilot. I was in instinct mode, my mind totally blank._

_I hit the water and kept going deeper, not even bothering to come up for a last breath of air. But I needed air. Oh, god, I need it so badly. Something told me there would be air in the car, so I kicked forward. The water was so murky I could scarcely see. Somehow – I don't quite know what happened – I got inside that car. _

_The rest was a blur. Cooper. Possessed. Rachel. Limp. My lungs screamed for air, but water rapidly filled the car. My nightmare came rushing back to me. Haley. Haley. Haley. _

_Keith. I saw him. I_ know _he was there._

_I couldn't see anything underwater. I was _feeling_ too much. __I felt Haley. I don't know how else to explain it. I didn't physically feel her touch, but I knew she was…I don't even know._

* * *

I don't know how I got out of there alive. I don't know how Cooper got out, or Rachel. I have no idea how I ended up on the bank. I don't understand any of it.

But I know that, for the second time in my life, I felt the bottom drop out of mortality. I felt the darkness of death, felt the blackened edges of it reach out and touch me, trying to smother me. And for the second time in my life, all I saw was Haley.

I had come to this river several times since that day. I had thought that maybe coming back would clear my head, help me make since of what had happened. I was wrong. I had thought that maybe Rachel – the only other person who had survived – could give me some answers. Again, I was wrong. She did, however, open my eyes. And once they were open, I saw that it was Haley who had healed me a long time ago. Haley was my answer. Our baby. Our life together.

But I couldn't talk to Haley. So tonight I returned to the river.

I had been reluctant to leave the hospital at all. I just sat numbly in the waiting room, helpless. According to the doctors, the surgery alone would take several hours. I nodded, numb. It was as if my body had been completely overloaded with emotion and it couldn't possibly take anymore, so it just shut down. I didn't feel anything.

Except for that familiar ache.

I had never felt so alone in my entire life. My father was in jail for a crime I committed. My mom…well, she's a druggie. And who the hell knows where she is? Probably all strung out on painkillers.

Then there's my brother, Lucas. I wished he was there with me. He was good at this kind of thing. He was the only other person on this planet who came even remotely close to caring about Haley as much as I did. He would almost be able to understand. But his life was still up for grabs, too, but in another wing of the hospital. Most of our friends were probably over there, too: Peyton, Brooke, Skills. And I suppose they should be there. After all, I could be surrounded by a thousand people, and still feel alone if Haley wasn't one of them.

I looked out over the river. Where it all happened. The calm, glassy surface betrayed the turmoil I had experienced beneath it not so very long ago. Miraculously, undeservedly, I had survived.

Now I wish I hadn't. If I had died that day, none of this would be happening now. There wouldn't have been any overwhelming hospital bills, or Daunte, or point shaving, or any of that. Haley would be safe and healthy, and so would our baby. I should've died that day.

I think my undeserved, uncanny knack for survival, like most things I hate about my life, comes from my dad. The world would probably be better if he had died, too – if the heart attack had killed him or, better yet, if Jimmy Edwards had shot him instead of Keith. I remind myself that _I_ would be the one sitting in a cell at the Tree Hill Police Department. But then, morbidly, I remember that if Dan had died, I would've inherited everything and wouldn't have needed to borrow from Daunte.

Daunte. I had thought it was going to be hard enough telling Haley that I had shaved points and almost thrown States, potentially jeopardizing college and our future. How was I supposed to tell her that I had killed a man? Or that my deal with Daunte had resulted in the accident? Could she ever love me again? Could Haley, the best person I've ever met, love a murderer?

'Cuz that's what I am. A murderer. I took a life. There is one less person on this planet because of me. The fact that I 'Took A Life' in general bothers me more than the fact that I 'Killed Daunte'. Because the world is probably better without him, too. I've done some bad mistakes, but I always promised myself that if I could do it over, I'd do things differently. The worst part about this is that I don't know if I would do things differently. I just don't know. But how the hell do I tell any of this to the woman I love more than anything in the world?

_That might not even be an issue,_ says a small, dark voice inside my head, and I want to throw up over the side of the bridge when I realize that voice might be right. That Haley and our baby might not survive. That it would be my fault if they didn't. Haley. God, what would I do without Haley? I could hardly bear it when she was on tour, and at least then she was still _alive_, and I knew she was doing something she loved.

_What if something happened to Haley? _It had been my deepest fear for over a year now. _What if something happened to Haley? _I'm not typically a morbid person, but that was exactly the sort of thing I would have nightmares about. _What if something happened to Haley?_ The world would end.

But something _did_ happen to Haley. And somehow, the world kept turning. There are people out in the world, right now, at this very moment, who are happy. There are lots of them, probably: People getting married, falling in love, making their dreams come true. That thought is so out-of-body and distant I can hardly even grasp it. In fact, I can't ever imagine being happy ever again. Not without Haley. Not without our baby. Not if they don't make it.

No. I shouldn't think that way. Haley will be fine. The baby will be fine. They have to be.

I honestly don't know how to survive without her. I'm not saying that to be romantic, I'm really not. I just don't know how I would go about living my life without her in it. And it's not just the initial grief I'm talking about – it's the grief, the pain, that will never, ever, ever go away. How do you survive it? Not just mentally and emotionally, but physically? How do you eat, drink, whatever, knowing that there is no purpose anymore? I don't know how I've managed to last this long as it is, and the doctors tell me there's still a chance Haley will pull through.

How do I keep going?

_"One breath at a time,"_ I heard Keith's voice again, just like I had in the sinking limosine. _"Just take one breath at a time."_

Then, fighting against every muscle in my body, I took a deep, shuddering breath of air, and slowly, painfully let it back out.


End file.
